


Bye, Bye Miss Havisham

by Poemsingreenink



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, POV Michaela Pratt, but she gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michaela parts with something incredibly precious, but ultimately worthless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bye, Bye Miss Havisham

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this would help a law case, but I'm sure Annalise could make it work.

“You got them a card?”

Michaela’s perfectly manicured fingernails dug into the unsealed envelop, pock marking it with tiny crescent-moon creases. 

Wes’ head was tilted to the side, his face open and curious, and practically oozing good intentions. She was slowly learning not to trust that look. 

“You get married, you get a card,” Michaela said with a toss of her hair. “It’s on acid free card stock.”

“Don’t worry, I helped her pick it out,” Connor said. 

“Why would we have worried?” Wes asked.

“Because if either bride vomited after they read the thing it might have ruined the mood,” Connor said with a shuddered. “Have you ever read a wedding card? God they’re gross.” 

“You think a card is going to help?” Laurel nodded toward the office. “You haven’t been here for the last hour.”

Through the window Michaela saw a bored looking girl in a waistcoat and bow tie playing on her phone. The colors were all wrong for her complexion, the dark red and black of the silk washing out her already pale face. The girl had rolled her eyes when Frank handed them over, but she was wearing them which was more than she’d been willing to do earlier in the day.

“It doesn’t matter if it helps,” Michaela said. “It matters that it’s expected.”

Someone behind her, maybe Connor, not Wes, probably Laurel snorted.

“Here.” Michaela produced a pen from of her purse, and pushed the card into Wes’ hands. “Sign it.” 

“It’s very…sparkly,” Wes said. 

“It was glitter or nausea.” Connor frowned at his hands which were covered in a layer of shimmering gold. “We went with glitter.”

Wes sighed. “What should I write?” 

“Congratulations Rosa and Lucy. Don’t blame us when you’re divorced in a year,” Connor said. 

The door to Annalise’s office was open, and through the porch window Michaela could see her talking quietly with their second client, a petite girl wearing Michaela’s bespoke Vera Wang wedding dress. Unlike Frank’s offering, Michaela’s didn’t fit the girl very well. Not that she’d expected it to. Michaela’s body was curvy in all the places their client was slim, and the bodice continued to slip down her non-existent cleavage.

“That’s very cynical,” Laurel said. She hopped onto the porch-railing, and pulled her gloves off before flipping through a thick packet of documents. 

“Lesbians can be stupid teenagers too,” Connor said. “Just because they can get married doesn’t mean they should.”

“They should it if keeps them out of jail.”

The girl in Michaela’s wedding dress turned, and the sunlight cascading thought the office caught her at just the right moment. The dress shimmered, and the smile on her face brightened when she caught sight of the girl in the living room. She must have made a noise, because the girl in Frank’s borrowed waistcoat jumped to her feet, phone forgotten. The boredom on her face melted away, replaced with a stunned expression.

The chicken salad sandwich Michaela had eaten for lunch almost came back up, and she stomped hard on the urge to be sick. 

“This won’t keep them out of jail,” Laurel said curtly. “This gets her mother on the stand, which helps Annalise, and then she’ll keep them out of jail.” 

“How does that work again?” Wes handed the card and pen to Laurel. He turned around and motioned to his back where she braced the card before quickly scrawling her name across the bottom.

“It -” Laurel wrinkled her nose as her eyes scanned the card. “Wow Connor, _this_ is the card that won’t make people gag?”

“It was slim pickings at the Lisa’s Hellmark,” Connor said. “The fancier the calligraphy the more the message made my eyes bleed.” 

“Who’s marrying them?” Michaela asked. 

“Frank,” Laurel said. “He’s a registered minister.”

Michaela laughed, a harsh sound that she wished she could shove back into her mouth.

“Wow, there is no god,” Connor said. “Another case successfully argued by Keating and Associates.”

The door to the house opened, and Asher slipped outside to join them. He rubbed his gloveless hands together and pulled his scarf tight around his neck. 

“Okay, don’t get me wrong I’m totally down for lesbian bank robbers in love,” Asher said. “Shit, this job is amazing, but I kind of don’t approve of this wedding.”

Laurel’s eyes narrowed, and Connor blinked in surprise. 

“Not about the gay part,” Asher snapped looking exasperated. “I just think if you get married it should be because you love someone not for crazy prison reasons. Marriage is important!” 

Connor took the card from Laurel and waggled it under Asher’s nose. “You think all your honorable Millstone forefathers married for love?”

Asher flushed, and snatched the card out of Connor’s hand. “Shut up.” 

Wes shrugged. “They do love each other. They’re protecting each other. You do that for people you love.”

“And it only took a three-hour screaming match for them to both agree to it,” Laurel said. “True love in action.”

Michaela moved away from the group, walking the length of the porch. The brides were holding hands, leaning close to press their foreheads against one another as they whispered whatever it was nineteen-year-olds whispered. The skirtof Michaela’s dress puffed up around the girl's waist like rising bread dough. The hem really needed to be taken up a few inches. 

Michaela turned the corner, leaving her classmates behind, and pressed her palm against the glass. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck for them to see each other before the ceremony?” 

Michaela didn’t jump, didn’t start or even acknowledge the speaker she was too focused on her dress. The girl wearing it wiggled a little, and then again and then reached around to scratch her exposed back right where the zipper ended. The tailor had said she’d fix that at her last fitting. The other girl reached around to help her, but her fingers danced a little lower where she grabbed the end of the zipper and started to pull. 

“Okay, they’re definitely not supposed to be doing _that_ before the ceremony.”

Someone moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Michaela, and their shared breath fogged up the window, blocking her view. Michaela backed away, and crossed her arms over her chest. Eve Rothlow smiled at her, and then turned her back to the couple as well. 

“Not that I care,” Eve said. “What’s one more bad decision between those two?”

There was a smell of cigarette smoke in the air, but no cigarette resting between Eve’s fingers. Michaela had smoked exactly one cigarette in her entire life, and the smell still sent her running from the habit. 

“I can go stop them if you want,” Eve offered. “That’s your dress in there, isn’t it? You’ll probably want it back.” 

Michaela examined her nails. The pink polish was coated in a dusting of gold glitter, and she flicked a lose piece away. “That old thing? I don’t care what happens to it.”

Eve’s smile grew wider. “No, Miss Havishams on this porch?”

Michaela fought the urge to brush phantom spider webs away from her hair.

“Not a one,” Michaela said. 

Eve pushed away from the window, and handed Michaela a thin square piece of cardboard. “I heard you’re smart Ms Pratt. Keep being smart and you can give me a call when you graduate.”

Michaela held the card in her hands, the sound of Eve’s footsteps growing softer as they moved further away. She chartered the other woman’s progress by the sound, noting when her classmate’s voices went silent and then started again when the front door slammed shut. 

Michaela sucked several deep breaths into her lungs, the cold air chilling her from the inside out. When the hot flush in her face faded she straightened her shoulders, and smoothed her sweating palms across her coat.

Tonight the dress and the ring went up for auction. It had always been the plan. She was too frugal a woman to hang onto something that precious for so long. Not when she had law school to pay for. She’d put it on Ebay and send the link Aiden’s mother, but before all that she had a wedding to attend. It was a going to be a disaster, but it was nice to know it wouldn’t be hers.


End file.
